


Boundaries

by RustyBlackhaw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Reader is a werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:05:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RustyBlackhaw/pseuds/RustyBlackhaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a simple mix-up, a case of mistaken identity. Surely, you could convince these fine hunters that you had nothing to do with the recent body count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It would have been wise of you to run and escape while you still had the chance. Unfortunately, your stomach had another plan: to hold as much venison as possible until the next town. It had been weeks since your last meal, and you couldn’t possibly ignore the lone doe nestled silently in a nest of dead leaves. She had put up quite the fight, but your fangs ended her struggle efficiently, and you were left with the spoils of your efforts.

Pound after pound of bloodied flesh slid down your throat, sating that empty feeling. You hadn’t any time to truly enjoy this kill, your senses alerting you to every unfamiliar disturbance. 

The rapid crunching of leaves signaled an approach. You froze, brown-tinged ears swiveling about and barely recognizing the footfalls of those you regarded as neither friend nor foe. A wave of relief washed over your form, though you remained vigilant. 

The very last mouthful of meat fell passed your jaws before issuing a low growl, warning the pair to keep their distance once they were within range. The sight of them disgusted you to no end, but you couldn’t ignore the panicked expressions and heavy breathing. The female was bleeding, her flesh sizzling where she hadn’t bothered to dig out the silver bullet buried in her left shoulder. There was no sympathy to be felt for these foul things. They deserved to be hunted.

“Hey! Didn’t mean to ruin dinner for you, but we have a little problem on our hands,” the male chuckled nervously, his eyes roaming frantically into the dark. “We need these hunters off our tails.”

What this mutt was saying had to be a joke. They wanted you to protect them! Not even by the skin of your teeth would you even consider flicking your tail in their general direction. 

His face became a combination of confusion and anger as he watched your lips curl into an amused, toothy grin.

“What the hell’s so damn funny?” the mongrel snarled, inciting you to press one paw before the other, stalking closer as fresh blood dripped from your own snarling maw. You had half a mind to tear his pathetic throat out when, albeit shakily, he stood his ground.

The female wisely stumbled backward and eyed you cautiously. It was mildly gratifying to know that they weren’t all as dumb as they looked. 

He groaned nervously, frustration eating at him as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. His voice was pleading, begging. “Please. You think we’re below you and all that shit, we get that, but we just wanna li—.”

The mongrel’s plea was interrupted by the familiar noise of gunfire, a well-aimed bullet piercing the night air along with his heart. A muffled gasp being the only utterance from the woman before she, too, was gunned down mercilessly.

Instincts took hold of your mind in that instant. You needed to escape and fast, lest you receive a silver bullet to your own heart.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sam! You see that thing?” Dean asked, his voice a hushed whisper. He shot his brother a brief glance before peeking from behind the tree he used as cover. “No way that’s a normal werewolf… wolf-thing. That guy was just begging for its help, right?”

Peering over his own bush, Sam took in the beast’s size, noting what remained of the deer carcass. “Yea, I think it was eating a deer or something before we all got here.” Sam thought back to all the lore on werewolves, trying to recall anything that might prove useful to identify this seemingly new monster. 

The wolf slowly began to tread backwards, keeping its eyes on the noisy chattering of the bush and its tree friend.

“It’s trying to escape,” he breathed, readying his gun.

“It’s not gonna get far.” Dean made him himself known, aiming his gun between the creature’s eyes, squeezing the trigger.  
\--

Had you ducked a moment later, you’d be lying at their feet. There was no more time to waste with caution. 

More shots were fired, bullets flying passed your ears as you spun off in the opposite direction, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the hunters as possible. Your legs weren’t carrying you as fast as you would have liked, that heavy meal slowing you down immensely while it sloshed around uncomfortably in your gut. 

You could hear them chasing after you. Panic crept into the back of your mind, your heart racing as thoughts of them riddling your body with holes took hold. Nothing more than a frightened animal fled from them now. Fear made people do stupid things. It caused you to do even stupider things like not pay attention to your surroundings. 

Dodging trees was no difficult task. They were out in the open for you to see, growing larger when you approached them. However, you failed to give attention to the uneven ground underfoot. It curved and slanted as though it were not quite sure of how to form. The earth suddenly fell into a downward slope, sending you tumbling into a gaping ditch with a yelp. You lied there, panting harshly as the exhaustion finally caught up. Resting there, even for a second, was foolish, but you struggled to catch your breath before moving to get up.

“Why not be a good dog and stay? This won’t hurt a bit.”

A tired growl wafted through the night air as you snarl up at the man staring down at you. This was your life, and you wouldn’t have it snatched away from you by a couple of clueless hunters. 

Without much contemplation, you revealed yourself to them. Bones crackled and snapped into place as they shifted. Your fur melted away to reveal soft naked flesh, dirty with mud and dead leaves. Small huffs and sounds of discomfort left you, your voice much gentler than the throaty growls. Teeth and claws were reduced to blunt, useless attributes, no longer threatening. You were smaller than the wolf, seemingly harmless to any oblivious human. Unfortunately, the humans that had you trapped weren’t so oblivious to what you actually were.

Dean scoffed and smirked, proceeding to aim his gun between your eyes like he’d previously done. “That’s a nice little trick. Now, let’s see if you can roll over.”

“Wait! Don’t… Don’t kill me. I know what you’re after, and it’s not me.” You glance between the two, gauging their reactions. They didn’t appear too interested in what you had to say, as if they’d heard this a million times before. You were positive that they had. They almost looked bored with your statement.

“You expect us to believe that? You and your little pack of mutts have caused enough trouble in this town,” Sam declares.

Your eyes narrow dangerously, pushing yourself up only slightly to remain covered. You wanted his face in the mud for even thinking of such an atrocity! 

“I don’t have a pack! And I sure as hell wouldn’t be caught running around with those half-breeds…” you growled.

Dean lowered his gun as he stared blankly and crouched, only half sure that you’d remain in your spot for the sake of decency. “Half-breeds? We dealing with skinwalkers? Doesn’t really make a difference. All you doggies go down the same anyway.”

“The difference is that I’m not the one picking off humans! Neither were those two that you put down. You meatheads just shoot first and ask questions later? Big mistake. There is pack here, but what do I know? I’ll just be one less dog to worry about.”

You held his gaze with one of your own, unwavering and determined to keep the fear from rising to the surface. You had managed to convince yourself that there was possibility to be of use to them in exchange of your life. Now, there was only the matter of convincing them as well instead of finishing you off in a ditch. 

Dean turned his head toward his brother and exchanged looks, the larger man nodding once and shrugging off his coat to hand to Dean.

“I better not find a single drop of piss on my seats.” His arm offered the thick jacket to you.  
\--

Introductions were curt to say the least. To make matters worse, Dean had decided that your own name wasn’t a good fit for you. During the ride back to their motel, he’d already called you by the names of fifteen different fictional dogs. You nearly lost it upon his suggestion of Cujo, digging your claws into the precious leather of his seat to keep from imbedding them in his skull. It wasn’t long until he’d made his choice. Lassie was his favorite. You prayed that he’d end up in a well soon. 

Sam was much more bearable. How he could even begin to tolerate his littermate was beyond you. You guessed that it had something to do with them always being together as if they were attached at the hip. There was nothing unusual about seeing hunters in pairs, but familial pairs were a rare sight. You’d seen your share of feuding hunter families, fussing over which method to kill a hapless creature was best or who should inspect an empty warehouse while the other waited on the sidelines. It was pure entertainment for whenever you found yourself bored of trying to mingle with normal people.

You tugged Sam’s coat tighter around your body once you stepped inside the cool room, your bare legs riddled with goose bumps. This form was a poor insulator. No wonder humans constantly sniffled and were bedridden. You shivered in the middle of the room and stood there, unsure of what to do. You startled when Sam spoke up while he rummaged through a bag. 

“Uh, as far as clothes go, I don’t have anything in your size obviously. My shirts could double as a dress for you, though.” He handed you a blue plaid shirt, worn with age wear and tear.

A mumbled thanks passed your lips as you faced away from him and quickly shed the coat to slip on the shirt before Dean could walk in. Sam had been right. The edge of the shirt hit you mid-thigh, your frame not quite filling it out. It smelled different from the coat, too, not stinking to high heaven of adrenaline and fresh sweat. The scent was almost familiar, something light and sweet. Your calmness increased with each button that you fastened into place. That is until Dean finally sauntered through the door.

“Don’t tell me you’ve already got her costume picked out! I was thinking we dress you up in a little red cloak and put a basket in your teeth for the pet contest.”

“Dean.” Sam was well aware of the fact that you were one stupid dog joke away from playing fetch with his brother’s throat. “Take a seat. We’ve got questions about this pack, and some about you, too.”

You cautiously took up the space nearest the edge of the bed, sitting beside Sam. Dean settled directly in front of you on the adjacent bed. Was he always so obnoxious? 

“I guess I’ll start with myself first. Things might make a little more sense,” you said evenly.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'd like to start off by saying that I hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading it. It's the first time I've posted fanfiction, so any constructive feedback would be wonderful! Other feedback is welcomed as well. If you like it, tell me why. If it just disgusted you in the worst way possible, please don't hold back on me and tell me what I can do to make it better! I can take it! I'll be happy to answer any questions as well. Anyway, thanks again for taking a look!


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